


Ublarpassik

by Andeincascade (Ande)



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-19
Updated: 2011-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-27 13:07:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ande/pseuds/Andeincascade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is no glimmer of sun on the horizon. There has been no sunrise for thirty days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ublarpassik

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hazelwho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelwho/gifts).



> Finally I can add author's notes! Yay!
> 
> First, this story was made immeasurably better by the excellent beta work of the beautiful and brilliant Akamine_chan. Her eagle eye is my salvation. Love you, baby. And thanks.
> 
> Second, this story was a blast to research. I had the help of REAL CANADIANS! There is only one non-emergency line for the RCMP in the Territories, so I need to thank the very helpful Mountie in Whitehorse. In Inuvik, I must thank the librarian, the library assistant, the fire chief, the assistant fire chief and, most of all, Rick the pyrotechnics guy who took over the fireworks and the organizing of the festival after the unfortunate incident with the fireworks in 1992, his first winter in Inuvik. He was so kind and helpful. He gave me the bones of the story, really, and I have an invitation to go out and see the land when I make it to Inuvik some day. Great guy. You'll never see this, but thank you, Rick. Thank you very kindly.
> 
> And last, but not least, thank you to my lovely recipient who inspired me so much. You were my spark, Hazel, and I loved writing for you.

Ublarpassik

 

Benton rouses but doesn’t open his eyes. The cabin is quiet save for the soft snores coming from somewhere near the vicinity of Benton’s armpit where Ray is nestled close, his long, agile fingers twisted in a fold of Benton’s long johns. He can hear Dief stirring in the front room where he’s been curled next to the hearth. Benton figures he has maybe five minutes to wallow, to enjoy the press of Ray’s body to his, before a cold wet nose pokes his hand and its owner demands to be fed and let outside. He mentally reviews the list of the day’s tasks in his head and drifts on the sounds of his slumbering family and the almost silence of snow drifting against the cabin walls.

Dief stirs again and Ben lets his eyelids flutter. He hears Dief’s low moan as he stretches and the tap of his nails against the scarred wooden floor as he shambles to his water bowl. Dief slurps noisily for several moments before he makes his way into the bedroom, brushing against the side of the bed, whining inquisitively. Ben hears and feels but does not see. The room is in utter darkness.

There is no glimmer of sun on the horizon. There has been no sunrise for thirty days.

Ben has been anxious about Ray’s first experience of the long darkness. It’s an unsettling time for the denizens of Arctic regions when the cycle of light and dark stops cold and people struggle to maintain the rhythms of life with no light to guide them. Even Arctic natives experience more depression during this time; there’s more crime, more domestic violence, and suicides. Some people can’t survive it. Grown accustomed to the gentler Chicago winters, Ben nearly fled Inuvik during his first year back and he’s been afraid, so terribly afraid, that Ray could not withstand it.

It has not been easy.

Ray had treated the first few days of total darkness with the same spirit as he’d attacked their quest, with cheerful determination and a sense of grand adventure. He’d pushed through the day’s chores with gusto and tumbled Ben into bed early with a sly grin and a pronouncement that the best use of the long dark day was “endless fucking.” As day after dark day passed, Ben had watched in quiet desperation as the light went out of Ray’s eyes, as he became tense, moody, withdrawn. As Ben’s enticements to activities with more light and noise and people were rejected. As Ben’s loving approaches were rebuffed.

Ben has pointedly avoided monitoring the level in the whiskey bottle in the kitchen cupboard; has refused to examine the joint checking account for expenditures for airfare. But today, when the sun rises, he wonders if Ray will ever be willing to go through this again.

“Ben-ton.” Ray’s voice is sleep-rough and he drawls Ben’s name with a yawn, untangling his fingers from the material of Ben’s long johns and smoothing his hand along the flat plane of Ben’s stomach. “You’re thinking too much.”

“I’m not, I assure you,” Ben lies, hoping his voice does not betray him.

“You are. I can hear you. Cut it out.” Ray curls his fingers in the collar of Ben’s long johns and Ray gives him a little shake as he shifts over the bedclothes and his warm, slightly chapped lips meet Ben’s unerringly in a kiss before Ben can form another protest. “Sun comes back today?”

“Yes, Ray, it does.”

“For how long?”

“About two and a half minutes.”

“And more tomorrow?”

“We’ll gain about twenty minutes of daylight each day.”

“Greatness.”

Ray kisses him again and Ben’s heart clenches in cautious joy; Ray has not found much greatness in life lately. His clever fingers begin to work open Ben’s long johns. Ben feels a familiar stirring between his legs and he sighs out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Okay, listen up, buddy. This is the plan.” He works his way down Ben’s body, punctuating his words with kisses to each patch of skin that’s uncovered. “First,” – kiss – “I am sucking you stupid.” More kisses and a long, languorous lick circling Ben’s navel. “Then,” – another kiss, further down – “You are buying me pancakes.”

“It’s a community breakfast, Ray,” Ben gasps. “Everyone is having pancakes today.”

“Benton.”

“Yes, Ray?”

“Pay attention.” And Ray swallows Ben down.

 

The Ingamo Friendship Centre is warm and bright and noisy as stacks of pancakes are served up with steaming platters of caribou sausage. Some people seem to be barely awake, their noses buried in coffee cups. Others seem to be struggling to shake off the effects of the long harsh winter. But mostly everyone looks happy to be sitting with their friends and neighbors and sharing a meal. Ray passes the maple syrup to Beverly from the library before helping himself to the coffee carafe, pouring another cup of the hot strong brew and lacing it liberally with sugar. Across the room, Benton sips from his cup of tea, his serge-trained posture unmistakable but comfortable in soft flannel as he chats with two of the young constables and the deputy fire chief, confirming arrangements for the day. He smiles as he releases his subordinates and Ray realizes he’s missed the way Ben’s eyes crinkle when he’s happy.

Ray hasn’t given Ben much to smile about these days.

The quest had been rigorous, learning to survive the harsh Arctic environment with nothing but an earnest Canadian Mountie, a deaf half-wolf and a team of borrowed sled dogs. They’d raced against the elements and the heavy spring snows but – away from the distractions of city and job and other people – could not outrun the attraction that had been simmering between them since the day they’d driven a Buick Riviera into the Lake they call Michigan. Ray had looked across his steaming mug of tea one morning and said quietly,” I want to stay, Frase. Tell me how I can stay.” Ben had nodded and, when they’d packed up their camp, had turned the sled toward a remote village where they holed up for four days in a borrowed cabin and made decisions between bouts of frantic sex, both of them suddenly starving for skin and connection. In the end, Ben would report to the RCMP to request a posting in Inuvik and Ray would return to Chicago to put in the twenty-seven months’ time-in-service needed to be able to tap the pension that would allow him to emigrate.

The time passed more quickly than Ray had expected. Ray had made two more trips north, one to help Fraser choose a suitable cabin on the outskirts of town and a second a year later to help build a much-needed addition to it. Fraser had come back to Chicago when Ray was ready to start his immigration paperwork and later, unexpectedly, for the funeral of Ma Vecchio. And finally, last July, Ray had stepped off a plane for good with two suitcases, one large duffle bag and four assorted boxes containing the pieces of Ray’s life in Chicago that he could not live without and an unholy determination to fit in.

It had been fun, at first, settling into their small home. The decision to volunteer for the fire department had been an easy one. Between Ben’s pay and Ray’s pension they were comfortable by Arctic standards and Ray could still protect and serve his new community. The guys at the department were people Ray could relate to, a lot like the guys Ray had first walked a beat with as a new police officer or the mechanics he and his dad had hung with down at the garage. And one night Ray had looked up from his book and watched Ben at the kitchen table, Dief at his feet, carefully oiling his Sam Browne with such a look of contentment on his face that Ray realized he had never before seen a truly happy Benton Fraser. He’d set his book aside and put some music on the boom box he’d brought from Chicago and drew Ben up into a wacky waltz-tango hybrid across the rough wooden floor. As they swayed to the music Ray had whispered, “I want you to fuck me, Ben.” When Ben had pushed into him Ray felt staked and claimed and he twisted his fingers in the sheets as if clutching at the very earth of the Territories.

The darkness steals more than the light.

Ray knows he’s been kind of a bastard to Ben lately, surly and unforgiving. Ben had warned him and Ray had tried to listen but he didn’t know it would feel this way. At first it had felt like they’d embarked on a crazy month-long all-nighter and Ray had been determined to make the best of it, manically jumping from one activity to the next, enticing Ben with sly smiles and outrageous suggestions and long bouts of hot, sweaty sex. The amount of energy this took couldn't be supported. It grew harder to get up every day, to perform the chores needed to maintain the cabin, to keep them fed and safe and warm. Ray had moved lethargically about the cabin, Dief a worried shadow at his heels, rejecting all of Ben’s offers of help, feeling his hope fade, and taking with it his tenuous sense of belonging.

Ben slides into the seat next to Ray and plucks a piece of uneaten sausage off Ray’s plate and pops it into his mouth with a grin. Jesus, Ray owes Ben, like, a week of blowjobs for letting his depression get so out of hand and stealing away Ben’s sense of fun.

“Constables Robinson and Peake are going to supervise the skating parties,” he reports. “Dief wants to watch the sled teams go out.”

Ray snickers. “Dief wants to size up potential girl friends for the spring.”

“Yes, probably. Do you think you will get away for lunch today? We could get a bowl of stew at the diner.”

Ray shakes his head. He is committed to spending most of the day at Inuvik’s small golf course, setting up for the evening’s activities. “It doesn’t sound like we’ll get much of a break. We need to make a final check of the fireworks array and stack the pallets for the bonfire. They’re supposed to be serving chili and hot dogs and stuff at the clubhouse. I’ll get something out there.”

Ben nods. “Do you need the truck? I can get a ride over with someone from the detachment later.”

“Naw, you take it, Ben. I’m working with Rick today and can catch a ride with him.”

Ben stands and carefully arranges his Stetson, then pauses to place a hand on Ray’s shoulder. “Daybreak is at 1:46 this afternoon, Ray. Don’t miss it.”

Ray grins. “I won’t.” He slides his fingers around Ben’s wrist and squeezes. “Keep Dief out of trouble. I’ll see you this evening.”

 

Rick reads from his checklist and Ray meticulously checks every part of the fireworks setup as instructed. Ray likes Rick – a tough, competent transplant from Calgary and a volunteer like Ray but the acknowledged expert in all things pyrotechnic. Ray’s heard tales about the incident at Rick’s first Sunrise Festival and now all the members of the department, from the newest volunteer to the fire chief, are careful to defer to his judgment regarding anything concerning the fireworks.

They work steadily through the morning until they are both too cold to safely handle the delicate mechanism and Rick calls a break. They head to the clubhouse and settle next to the woodstove with bowls of hot chili, warming their shaking fingers on thick mugs of coffee. They eat mostly in silence, pausing only to pass the bread basket between them or to nod at the server who refills their mugs. When they’ve each emptied their bowls twice and accepted an offer of pie and finished that, Rick slides a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his parka and offers it to Ray. They light up and settle back in their chairs. Across the room, through a frosted window, there’s a gathering of light on the horizon.

“Almost time,” Rick observes, unnecessarily.

“Yeah,” Ray breathes. They sit and smoke companionably and, when the sun unmistakably clears the horizon, Rick glances at his watch. Ray can’t take his eyes off the sun. He watches avidly, spirits lifting, as it traces a small loop in the sky before dipping down below the horizon again. Dark falls quickly once more.

“How long?”

“Two minutes, thirty-seven seconds,” says Rick. He meets Ray’s eyes steadily. “A light box can help, you know. I used one, the first few years I was here. Until I acclimated.”

“I know,” Ray admits. “Ben’s said. We’ll probably get one next year. I just – I needed to know I could do it on my own if I had to. Without a crutch.”

Rick nods. After a moment he says, “There’s two kinds of people who come to Inuvik, Ray. The kind who can’t wait to get back on the plane and the kind who stay forever.”

Ray can’t help a small smile. “Did I surprise you?”

Rick grins back at him. “I never had any doubts about you.” He stands and shrugs into his parka. “Let’s check that last section of the array and help them finish getting ready for the bonfire.

 

When Ben and Dief arrive at the golf course most of Inuvik has already gathered. Ben parks the truck and they make their way down the hill, Dief loping ahead a little, to the sheltered hollow where a year’s worth of shipping pallets have been carefully amassed in a structure larger than the cabin Ben shares with Ray, a soon-to-be pyre to immolate the Arctic darkness.

Ben finds Ray standing with his fellow firefighters, spaced at careful intervals around the pallets, waiting for the signal from Her Honor, the Mayor of Inuvik. She says a few words of welcome in English and repeats them in Inuktitut and then, with a hand gesture, signs for the bonfire to begin. The fire chief lights his torch and the fire fighters pass the flame between them until all the torches are lit. Then, as one, they plunge the torches into the stack of pallets and the bonfire goes up with a cheer from the crowd.

As the fire grows, the fire fighters are pushed back, taking the crowd with them, until Ben and Ray are standing together at the edge of the flames. Ben slips his arm around Ray’s waist, pulling Ray against him back to chest as they watch and he thinks about how he came to be here. He thinks about his mother in her small cabin at the edge of the tree line. He thinks about his father and Buck Frobisher taming the Territories as he and Ray and Ray had tamed Chicago. He thinks about his grandmother and her books and his sister Maggie at her new posting in Whitehorse. He thinks about Ray Vecchio on the beaches of Florida, grousing about the heat and the sand in his handmade Italian loafers. He thinks about Ray Kowalski, his brave, beautiful Ray, still standing sturdily next to him.

There is too much emotion for his chest to contain and, before he can think twice about it, he opens his mouth. “O Canada,” he sings. “Our home and native land.”

The junior constables take up the next line with him, “Ton front est ceint de fleurons glorieux.”

The deputy fire chief lends her strong alto, “With glowing hearts we see thee rise, the True North strong and free.”

And the crowd takes up the rest of the song. Across the fire Ben can see Beatrice from the preschool standing with her family and a large group of First Nations folk, all of them singing in Inuktitut.

The flames fade as the song ends and the people of Inuvik crowd close to the embers to keep warm as Rick touches the controls that will start the light show.

Ray turns in Ben’s arms, warm and alive, and tugs on the hood of Ben’s parka until their lips meet in a kiss. “Sentimental mushball,” he mutters with a grin.

“Welcome home, Ray,” Ben whispers and the minute he says “home” he knows that it’s true.

 

Ben carefully drives the truck into the shed and Ray jumps out quickly to attach the engine to the block heater before the two tired men stumble across the snowy yard to the cabin. As they climb the stairs an odd shadow passes overhead and Ray turns to look. Wild arms of green and purple are snaking across the dome of stars.

“Ben, look.”

They stand shoulder to shoulder on their porch, mittened hands pressed together, Dief twined between their legs, an oddball family of three. The Aurora throws lights across the sky, spilling color over the Arctic landscape like a benediction.

-fin-

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Podfic: Ublarpassik by Andeincascade](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3292253) by [malnpudl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/malnpudl/pseuds/malnpudl)




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